


i've got my love to keep me warm

by Lirazel



Category: Infinite (Band), K-POP RPF, K-pop, Korean Pop, Kpop-Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirazel/pseuds/Lirazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungyeol and Woohyun are trapped in a freezing cabin all by themselves. Obviously they have to take their clothes off to share body heat. Obviously it doesn’t end at sharing body heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got my love to keep me warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aerintine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerintine/gifts).



> I will warn that the very beginning of the actual sex part, someone makes a move without really establishing consent first, but we get consent taken care of pretty quick so I don’t think it should bother anyone too much. But I wanted to warn you.

“ _Fuck_.”

 

Sungyeol’s head snaps up when he hears Woohyun’s curse. “What is it?” Dread curls in his stomach; he knows all of Woohyun’s tones, and this one is definitely the one that means Sungyeol should worry. It isn’t frustrated but resigned, weary but with a bite of humor. This is flat-out scared. And while Woohyun may jump to conclusions and overreact to things a lot, he doesn’t get genuinely frightened often. Sungyeol’s only heard this edge enter Woohyun’s voice a few times over the years, and every time it’s been right before things have gone terribly, terribly wrong. 

 

Woohyun doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. Sungyeol isn’t stupid; he understands what he’s seeing: Woohyun’s mittened hands wrapped around the handle of the door, his whole body shaking with the force of his jerks, little clouds puffing out of his mouth at his effort, his eyes narrow and face strained.

 

“It’s _locked_?” Sungyeol usually tries to keep his voice from going shrill and cracking that way, but right now he doesn’t even notice. 

 

Woohyun still doesn’t answer, tugging harder and harder at the door. He’s been in one of his sculpt-his-body phases for the past couple of months, working out every spare moment he has and bulking up with some muscle again; he’s bench pressing enough to impress even Howon. But the door doesn’t budge.

 

Sungyeol’s hands are shaking and he honestly isn’t sure whether it’s from the cold or from fear, but he’s pretty sure the difference matters less with each passing moment. “Try harder!”

 

Woohyun glances over his shoulder long enough to give him a furious look, but he doesn’t stop pulling the door. There’s no way to see through the thick fabric of his puffy coat, but Sungyeol knows those hard-won muscles are straining with effort.

 

Sungyeol rushes over to the door, elbowing Woohyun. “Let me try.”

 

The look Woohyun gives him is all the proof Sungyeol needs that Woohyun’s about to panic: Woohyun may joke about how Sungyeol always worrying him by being sick or injured, but he never even implies that Sungyeol is weak (unlike Sunggyu) or gloats about his own strength or sculpted body. It’s always been weird to Sungyeol, how Woohyun holds his own physical appearance to these impossible standards but doesn’t seem to apply those standards to anyone else. More than once when the managers have tried to hint that Sungyeol should work out more, Woohyun has snapped at them that Sungyeol is perfect just the way he is. The disconnect is confusing, but it’s so Woohyun that Sungyeol doesn’t question it much. He can read Woohyun’s look now, though, _if I can’t get it open, there’s no way you can_ , and the fact that Woohyun would even consider shooting it at Sungyeol is enough of an anomaly that anxiety ratchets the tension in Sungyeol’s shoulders.

 

But Woohyun still moves out of the way with a dramatic ‘try it yourself’ gesture, and Sungyeol grabs onto the handle. He figures he might have marginally more luck than Woohyun: Woohyun’s wearing knit mittens, which can’t be good for gripping, but Sungyeol’s gloves are leather, so surely he can—

 

No. The door doesn’t move at all. It stays so absolutely still that it feels like a wall, and it’s hard to believe that it ever opened at all. But they _just came through_ this door not ten minutes ago, and sure, it was a bit stuck when they tried to open it at first, and Woohyun had to give it some help in the form of his shoulder, but the handle had turned pretty easily and Sungyeol still remembers the hellish creak of the hinges and _they’re in this cabin_ so it had to have opened, but—

 

The handle won’t even turn.

 

Sungyeol stumbles back from the door, sweating a bit now despite the fact that he’s doing his best imitation of an icicle, and he’d forgotten just how unpleasant sweating while you’re freezing is. _Fuck fuck fuck._

 

“What the fuck are you doing now?” he demands when he looks at Woohyun, but Woohyun ignores him, head bent as he fumbles to get his password into his phone, but the mittens are making it difficult.

 

“What does it look like?” Woohyun grits out, face knotted up in frustration.

 

“You know good and well we don’t have service out here. We’re in the middle of freaking nowhere!”

 

Woohyun just grits his teeth. “It’s worth a try.” Hissing in frustration, he moves his hand up to his mouth, about to grab his mitten with his teeth and pull it off. Sungyeol’s hand shoots out and he swipes the phone.

 

“Dumbass, don’t do that, do you want to get frostbite?” Honestly. And this guy says _Sungyeol_ is careless with his body. “What’s your passcode?” Sungyeol knows Myungsoo’s, but everyone else in Infinite guards theirs carefully, their locked phones some of the only privacy they have.

 

Woohyun doesn’t answer for a moment, but when Sungyeol gives him a ‘seriously? out with it!’ look, he says stiffly, “0827.”

 

Sungyeol stares blankly at him. “That’s my birthday.”

 

“I cycle through the members’ birthdays,” Woohyun shoots back defensively. “Right now it’s your turn. Just put it in already.”

 

“Fine, fine.” That seems pretty dumb to Sungyeol, using the members’ birthdays—isn’t that just exactly what delusional shipper fans would try if they managed to get their hands on the phone?—but he’s not really interested in arguing about it now. Later, when they’re back at the lodge, in sweats after a hot shower and sipping hot chocolate in front of those fireplaces in the lobby, he can tease Woohyun about it. Right now he just wants to get the hell out of here.

 

“Told you,” he says a second later, holding up the phone so Woohyun can get a good look at the complete lack of signal, but he doesn’t take any pleasure in it the way he usually does. It would totally be worth it to suffer through Woohyun’s smug comments if it meant they really did have a signal and could call someone to get them the fuck out of here. But that, at least, isn’t happening now.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Woohyun curses again. “Why the fuck did we even come in here?”

 

Sungyeol can’t believe him. “Are you serious right now? It was _your idea_.”

 

Woohyun grits his teeth again, a muscle flexing just above his jawline. Sungyeol has the fleeting thought that it’s really manly—there’s no way you could see a muscle flexing in _his_ cheeks, not with how persistently fleshy they are despite his best efforts—but writes it off to panic-induced hysteria.

 

“‘Oh, look, Yeol, a cabin!’” Sungyeol’s singsong-y impression is terrible; if he was really trying to imitate Woohyun he’d have to lower his voice significantly, but that wouldn’t be nearly mocking enough, so he doesn’t bother going for realism. “‘You can tell it’s abandoned—let’s check it out!’ You practically dragged me up the steps!”

 

Woohyun continues to glare at him, and the intensity of his eyes on Sungyeol unhinges Sungyeol’s tongue for some reason. “Not to mention that it was your idea to go on a hike in the first place. I wanted to take a freaking nap like Gyu-hyung or at least try snowboarding with Hoya and Sungjong. But _no_ , you _insisted_.”

 

“Fine! Fine, it was all my fault! We’re stuck in a freezing cold cabin miles away from the lodge and no one will have any idea where we are, and we’re probably going to freeze to death here or have to eat each other to survive the winter, and it’s all my fault! Now will you please fucking help me figure some way out of here?”

 

Chagrined, Sungyeol turns away, shoving Woohyun’s phone into his coat pocket , stomping his feet and tucking his hands into his armpits—the gloves are good for handle-gripping and passcode-entering, but they aren’t doing nearly enough to keep his fingers warm, and the two pair of thick socks he’s wearing aren’t doing any better for his feet. His mom’s always said he has bad circulation in his extremities. 

 

He scans the room, taking in the emptiness. It was probably cozy when someone actually used it, the first floor all one large room with wooden floors and thick beams, a kitchen on one side and the living area on the other. But it’s all empty now, even the lack of kitchen appliances leaving gaping holes in the cabinets, the fireplace in the living area swept clean of ashes, the only remaining furniture a pair of ancient-looking rocking chairs that Sungyeol is pretty sure would break to kindling if an adult tried to sit in them. Up those stairs there’s probably a couple of bedrooms, but he’s willing to bet that they’re as empty as the downstairs. 

 

Trying to ignore how his nose is tingling with cold, Sungyeol wanders over to a window, running his fingers over the sill. They’re nailed shut, and whoever did the nailing did a good job; Sungyeol doesn’t think someone could pry those out if they tried, not even L-Gyver and his weird skills at carpentry. And even if you could break the glass, which he doubts because it looks pretty thick, there are boards nailed on the outside, probably just as firmly. There are spaces between the boards, letting in some daylight, which is all that’s keeping it from being pitch-black in the room, but Sungyeol probably couldn’t get his whole thigh between them, much less the rest of his body. Whoever boarded this place up intended to keep it safe from trespassers. Which doesn’t explain _why the front door was unlocked_ and why it’s locked now.

 

“These windows aren’t opening,” he says, turning back to where Woohyun is looking around helplessly. “The door’s probably our best bet.”

 

“The door isn’t budging, Yeol,” Woohyun points out, voice tense.

 

“Well, maybe we could find an axe. Hack it open, you know. Like _The Shining_.” Oh, fantastic. That’s really what he needs to be thinking about when they’re alone in the middle of the woods. Damn it, he’s been watching too many horror movies with Sungjong.

 

Woohyun rolls his eyes at the dramatic suggestion, but shrugs. “Let’s at least see if we can find anything at all.”

 

They don’t. Other than the rocking chairs, the downstairs contains nothing but an old broom handle in the corner, and the cabinets are completely empty except for a half-empty box of baking soda. The upstairs is much the same: the two bedrooms and bathrooms have no contents at all—even the toilet bowl has no water in it and the pipes groan but produce no water when Sungyeol tries out the sink—except for a couple of old blankets in the built-in cabinet in one room. Sungyeol wrinkles his nose as he pokes at them; considering the spic-and-span state of the rest of the house, they’re probably clean, but the smell of mothballs is so thick it almost makes him gag. 

 

“We should spread them out, let them air out to get rid of some of the smell,” Woohyun suggest quietly. “We might need them later.”

 

Sungyeol’s horrified reflex is to argue that they very definitely won’t need them, because they’re totally getting out of here soon, but he bites his tongue—literally—and helps Woohyun spread them out on the floor.

 

“These windows aren’t boarded,” he notes, straightening and going over to one. “If we could break the glass, we could—”

 

“Look how far down the ground is,” Woohyun points out, and yeah, the ground is _really_ far down. The cabin is built on a hill, and the back of the house is significantly further off the ground than the front. And the only windows that aren’t completely boarded over up here are the ones on the back. Whatever obnoxiously conscientious person closed up this house probably didn’t want to waste boards since no one could reach these not-boarded windows without a huge-ass ladder. Figures.

 

“The snow’s pretty thick on the ground.” Sungyeol is quite sure of that, considering how just a little while ago he and Woohyun were wading through it. It was _not_ fun, despite all of Woohyun’s assurances that a walk through the snow-covered woods was exactly what they needed. “It could break our fall.”

 

“After you,” Woohyun says with a snort and an expansive gesture. Sungyeol smirks at him.

 

“What? Worried you’re going to break your nose and ruin your looks?”

 

“More like my neck and ruin my ability to ever dance again. Or, you know, there might be solid rock under that snow and we could _die_.”

 

He’s right, though Sungyeol suspects that if they’re locked in here long enough, he’ll begin to get so desperate he might just risk it. But he doesn’t say that, because he knows Woohyun well enough to know that would only upset him more. For all his attempts at snarking, Woohyun is drooping. He looks very tiny right now, the volume of his puffy jacket disguising the solidity of his build, his fists stuffed deep in the pockets, his knit cap pulled down over his ears like a little kid’s, and the resemblance to a child is only heightened by the way he keeps ducking his nose down under the cover of his scarf. He’s kind of adorable, actually, or he would be if he didn’t look so miserable. If Sungyeol were Dongwoo—or Myungsoo—or maybe even Sunggyu in one of his better moods—he’d probably walk over and hug him. But he’s Sungyeol, so he turns back to the window and watches the snow float down against the backdrop of the leafless trees.

 

He’d known it was a bad idea, filming a music video in the height of winter at a ski lodge. Everyone else said it would be really great for a winter comeback, shots of them against snow-swaddled mountains and fir trees. And sure, maybe it’ll look nice on the screen and the fans will probably love it, but Sungyeol knew good and well that whenever he watched it he’d remember his ass being cold and snow getting into his boots. ‘And Myungsoo will probably get too close to some lake or something and fall in and get pneumonia,’ he’d predicted, ending up in a tussle when Hoya pointed out that _Sungyeol_ was the one most likely to catch pneumonia. 

 

He knows everyone thought he was just being moody, and yeah, he can admit that sometimes he does get moody for more or less no reason (though he often has a lot of good reasons too). But he’d really had a bad feeling about it, and the feeling hadn’t budged even when the others had gone on and on about learning to ski and how nice the lodge was and how beautiful the snow looked. 

 

He’d had a bad feeling, too, earlier this afternoon when he was done with his filming for the day and Woohyun insisted they take a walk. Sungyeol had been less than thrilled at the idea—he isn’t really big on ‘taking walks’ even when it’s 24 degrees outside and sunny, much less when it’s freezing and snow keeps drifting down. But Woohyun had pouted and pleaded, and he almost never does his stupid aegyo when cameras or fans aren’t around, but for some reason when he does, Sungyeol finds himself powerless against it. He’d sighed in resignation and agreed, and the way Woohyun’s face had lit up melted away some of that bad feeling in his stomach. He’d suggested they wait till Dongwoo was done with his filming and bring him with them, but Woohyun had sworn it was a better idea to go right then. ‘That way we’ll get back well before it gets dark.’ Sungyeol couldn’t argue with that.

 

Only it seems that now they _won’t_ get back well before it gets dark. It’s only about three now, so they still have time, but the way his throat is clenching tells him that no matter how optimistically he tries to think, he won’t be able to convince his body that they aren’t going to be stuck here for a while yet.

 

He should really be giving Woohyun a hard time about this. It really _is_ his fault. But the look on Woohyun’s face is so dejected that he can’t even bring himself to rag on him. When they’re firmly back to safety—and _warmth_? Absolutely. He intends to milk this for all it’s worth and not buy his own snacks for the next few months and never let Woohyun forget about it. But right now that would just be too mean.

 

He sighs. “Let’s try the door again.”

 

 

It’s all so cliche. Sungyeol hadn’t thought he’d watched many movies or tv shows about people getting locked in somewhere, but apparently he has, because nothing that happens surprises him. The door still doesn’t open, they still don’t have any signal on their phones, even if they could break apart the chairs neither of them would be able to start a fire with them. As it starts to get dark outside, Sungyeol complains about being hungry, and Woohyun tosses him a protein bar he pulls out of his jacket pocket (Sungyeol breaks it in half to share, but Woohyun just shakes his head. ‘I’m on a diet anyway.’ Sungyeol is too hungry to argue). Then after that he’s thirsty, and he whines for a while until Woohyun stomps off up the stairs, opens the only window that isn’t nailed shut—the tiny one in the bathroom no bigger than Sungyeol’s head—and tries to get as much snow from the flower box into his empty water bottle as he can, wrapping his mittened hands around it to melt the snow into water. Sungyeol sulks as he drinks, but he does say thank you, and when he’s finished, he goes himself upstairs and fills it back up for Woohyun. Then, of course, he tries the door again.

 

“It’s like we’re in a fucking drama,” Sungyeol pouts, kicking at it when it stays as closed as ever. “Only if we were, one of us would be a girl and we’d be in love but not telling each other and we’d end up falling asleep on top of each other or something.”

 

“Sounds like a terrible drama to me,” Woohyun says, and something about his voice is strained, but when Sungyeol turns to look at him, his face is normal. “Let’s play a game or something.”

 

They play would-you-rather and I’ve-never, but it’s not that entertaining because they’ve played them both so many times before—keeping themselves awake during dance practice at three in the morning, on long plane-rides, in a thousand waiting rooms and dressing rooms—that they could answer for each other at this point. I-spy isn’t any fun in a room so completely empty, and it doesn’t take Woohyun long to catch Sungyeol up on all the idol gossip, courtesy of Key, of course. After that they talk about nothing, lapsing into long silences when they run out of things to say, telling inane stories from their childhoods that aren’t even amusing to themselves.

 

They very definitely don’t talk about the fact that the temperature is dropping as it gets dark outside. Sungyeol moves over to sit beside Woohyun, pressing their sides together in hopes of it being warmer. Woohyun stiffens at first, but then he’s been doing that a lot lately when Sungyeol touches him, and he relaxes quickly enough, so Sungyeol ignores it. He’s not sure it’s warmer being this close to Woohyun, but it’s still comforting.

 

They also don’t talk about whether someone will find them soon. Sungyeol knows that Woohyun has to know that the others must be worried about them by now. Myungsoo will probably have started worrying a couple of hours ago, but the others will have written it off as him being a baby about not being taken along. Dongwoo will be next, then Sunggyu even if he tries to hide it. Howon and Sungjong will take the longest, but eventually even they will start to think their members have been gone too long. The managers will probably have been asking anyone returning to the lodge if they’ve seen Woohyun and Sungyeol for a while now and may have been walking around looking for them near the ski slopes. By the time the sun sets, though, Sungyeol is quite sure that they’re in full-on search mode. That should be a relief, and in one way it is, but he keeps thinking about how they’d wandered off the main path on a little side one that looked way too untraveled for Sungyeol’s tastes. Would the search party think to follow it? Would it be covered by snow and be bypassed? How long will they have to wait?

 

It isn’t any use to talk about that. It won’t change anything, and it’ll only make them more worried. So even though Sungyeol’s going over and over it in his mind, he keeps it all inside. They don’t need to make each other panic. 

 

He lets his head thunk back against the wall behind him, sighing. “Why’d you even want to go on a walk, anyway? You don’t even really like snow.” His tone is anything but accusing, really he isn’t even expecting an answer, just talking to hear himself speak. But Woohyun tenses beside him, and so Sungyeol rolls his head around to look at him.

 

Woohyun’s quiet for a long time, and then he lets out an almost inaudible sigh. It’s getting dark in the room, and Sungyeol can barely make out the little curl of frozen breath in the air around Woohyun’s lips. 

 

“It wasn’t—I didn’t really care about the walk. I just—” Sungyeol’s eyes narrow in concern; Woohyun rarely sounds this tentative when the two of them are talking. Sometimes he sounds that way about things he has to do—about being the moodmaker on TV or turning on the grease or flirting for some variety show with pretty idols he insists are way out of his league—but he never sounds hesitant to talk to Sungyeol. Sungyeol’s long gotten used to the fact that Woohyun trusts him, that he confides in him maybe almost as much as he does Kibum. Sungyeol can’t say that he really understands it, except that maybe it’s got to do with Woohyun’s awareness of their mutual insecurities. But he’s always appreciated it. It’s weird hearing Woohyun sound so different than he usually does. “You’ve been so busy filming your drama. You’re gone _all the time_ and I feel like I never see you. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

 

That’s a completely ridiculous thing to say. Sure, his latest drama role does take up a lot of his time, but they still see each other for hours and hours a day. They’re still in each other’s butts, as Hoya always says. But Sungyeol knows what he means. When they’re together these days they’re busy, working, practicing, rushing around. They haven’t really had time to talk at all, much less do it alone just the two of them. Sungyeol is probably happier than he’s ever been now that he’s acting regularly, but he does still have moments where he misses the members. Myungsoo hangs all over him whenever they’re together, even clingier than usual, and Sungyeol goes with it because he expected it. But he hadn’t expected Woohyun to say something like that. It makes his insides squirm a bit, probably because he’s never been comfortable with expressing sincere emotions. But the squirming sensation isn’t all unpleasant. It’s nice to be liked enough to be missed.

 

“Dude, next time you miss me, let’s just go sit in a corner somewhere or something. Tramping through the woods when it’s cold as Antarctica is overkill, you know?”

 

“It was the only way I could think of to make sure seventeen other people wouldn’t end up joining us,” Woohyun mutters, and Sungyeol laughs even though the words make him feel strangely raw. Woohyun didn’t just want to be with him, he wanted to be with him _alone_. There’s nothing so weird about that; when you want someone’s attention you usually don’t want others around distracting that person. But still. 

 

“We can just go in one of the bedrooms and lock the door,” Sungyeol suggests. “I promise I won’t open it no matter how hard Myungsoo bangs. Then you can have all my attention you can handle.”

 

Woohyun shifts beside him and clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. Uh, we should probably sleep now.”

 

Woohyun probably can’t even see Sungyeol gaping at him. “It’s like six o’clock. Even my halmoni doesn’t go to bed that early.”

 

“How many times a day do you complain about not getting enough sleep? It’s not like we have an actual sleep schedule. Sometimes we get our three hours in the middle of the day. Here we have a chance for hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep. And there’s nothing else to do. We might as well.”

 

“What if we sleep through the searchers trying to get in?” It’s the first time either of them have mentioned that people will be searching for them.

 

“We’ll definitely wake up for that.” Woohyun snorts. “ _You’ll_ definitely wake up for that. You’re the lightest sleeper on the planet. Come on.”

 

They stumble a bit getting up the stairs in the almost-dark, and Sungyeol makes a detour to the bathroom, trying not to gasp and shriek at the cold when he fishes himself out of his pants. He can’t flush afterwards, and there’s no toilet paper, so he does his best shaking his dick around to dry it off, though it doesn’t work as well as he’d like. He doesn’t bother zipping his pants back up when he joins Woohyun in the bedroom with the blankets.

 

Woohyun has layered them on top of each other, and is pulling off his shoes when Sungyeol comes in. He’s about to slide under the covers, but he freezes when he sees Sungyeol unzipping his coat.

 

“Uh, what are you doing? It’s only going to get colder in here.”

 

“Yeah,” Sungyeol acknowledges, pulling off his scarf and gloves and tossing them on top of his coat. Fuck, it’s cold. “It’s only going to get colder. So we need to do with all the survival guides say to do.”

 

“When do you read fucking survival gui—” Woohyun stops abruptly, and Sungyeol knows he’s figured it out. It’s brighter up here with the unboarded windows, enough that Sungyeol can see Woohyun’s eyes going very wide. “You’re kidding,” Woohyun says finally, sounding choked.

 

“Nope.” Sungyeol peels off his sweatshirt. “Skin to skin. It’s the only way to do it.”

 

“Yeol, I don’t think it’s going to be _that_ cold, we can just—”

 

Sungyeol cuts off Woohyun’s protests. “I’m not risking it. We can pile our coats and stuff on top of us.”

 

“Sungyeol—”

 

“ _Woohyun_.” Sungyeol knows how weird he sounds when he goes all serious this way, but he doesn’t understand why Woohyun is making such a big deal about this. “Stop being a baby. I want to be fucking _warm_ , okay? It’s just skinship.”

 

He hears Woohyun swallow, but then he unzips his coat and Sungyeol relaxes—well, as much as he can when it’s freaking freezing. He skin is tingling so much he feels like it’s giving off sparks of cold. He considers leaving his socks on, at least, but chucks them off at the last minute. 

 

“What the fuck are you _doing_?”

 

Woohyun’s tone is very much like what Sungyeol imagines it would be if Sungyeol started eating a baby. Sungyeol stares at him. “I’m taking off my underwear?”

 

“You don’t need to do that. It’s not that much more skin contact, it won’t really help. Let’s at least keep the underwear.”

 

Sungyeol has no idea why Woohyun’s speaking so hurriedly—almost desperately—but every inch of him is so cold he doesn’t really care. 

 

“What the fuck, Woohyun? You’ve seen it all before a million times. Besides, my underwear’s kind of wet because there wasn’t any toilet paper. I’m way more comfortable without it.” He shucks off his boxer briefs, not looking down at his dick—he doesn’t like to see the way it shrinks in the cold—and scrambles under the blankets, pulling all his clothes on top of him. When he’s done arranging them, he sees that Woohyun is still in his jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt. “Hurry up. I need you to warm me up.”

 

Woohyun turns away quickly, and sheds the rest of his clothes just as fast, sliding under the covers as well. The blankets are pretty thick, which is nice, but they still smell unpleasantly like mothballs and they haven’t warmed up yet. Sungyeol scoots closer to Woohyun, unsurprised at the flinch he feels, and loops his arms around Woohyun’s chest. He thinks Myungsoo would think this is hilarious—skinship to save their lives. 

 

Woohyun’s skin is very smooth and cool against his, but it heats up quickly, even faster than it takes for Woohyun to relax. “Why the fuck are you so tense? I thought you said you wanted to sleep. You’ll never be able to if you’re doing an imitation of a rock.” Sungyeol tucks his nose into Woohyun’s hair. It’s cold and silky against his skin, but it too warms up pretty fast.

 

“Our clothes are going to be so fucking cold in the morning when we put them on,” Woohyun says, voice shaky. From the cold, of course.

 

“We’ll pull them under the blankets and warm them up first,” Sungyeol says. “Fuck, your feet are like ice cubes.”

 

“Yeah, well, yours aren’t any better.” Woohyun’s voice sounds marginally more stable now. Good, he must be warming up.

 

“Maybe we should have kept our socks on.”

 

Woohyun’s little laugh sounds forced, but maybe that’s just the cold, too. “That’d look just great. Butt-naked except for socks.”

 

“Well, who’s gonna see us? I wouldn’t think you’re any less sexy,” Sungyeol teases. “Though I might take some pictures. You’ll need Kibum’s feedback on your sock choices.”

 

Woohyun shifts and doesn’t pick up the thread of banter. Maybe he’s more tired than he let on. Or more scared. Sungyeol is pretty sure they’ll be found before they actually start, like, starving or something. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t still scared. He’s just trying not to think about it. It’s pretty easy, actually, when Woohyun’s elbow is in his ribs.

 

“Dude, put your arms around me or something. This is a really uncomfortable position.”

 

“Buy a guy a drink first, geez,” Woohyun says, but Sungyeol feels Woohyun’s muscled arms moving around his waist.

 

“We’re already naked and in bed together. I think we’re far past the point of drink-buying. I guess we’re both just easy.” This is the kind of banter Sungyeol likes, the kind that comes so easy with Woohyun. Woohyun’s always been the one most willing to go along with Sungyeol’s wordplay, thinking it’s just as much fun as Sungyeol does. Sungyeol loves his best friend, but Myungsoo is not gifted in that area. He’s always been glad he has Woohyun in the group for that reason. And for a lot of other reasons, too, of course. Woohyun’s pretty great, when he’s not getting them locked in abandoned cabins doing their best imitations of meat-lockers.

 

“But think about it like this,” he adds. “You wanted to spend time just with me. Well now you’ve got every bit of Prince Sungyeol. Aren’t you lucky?”

 

Sungyeol’s collarbone feels the vibration of the sound Woohyun makes, one he can’t interpret. 

 

“This is seriously like something out of a bad fanfic.” He’s feeling almost totally warm now, except for his feet, which he knows will take a while, and his face above the top of the blankets. The smell of mothballs is still too strong, but he can also smell Woohyun, which is better. The blanket under him and the ones above him are an interesting contrast to the smoothness of Woohyun’s skin. He wishes he had a pillow, but he’ll probably sleep pretty well tonight, all things considered. “Imagine what the fangirls would say. Do you know how many of them would kill to be in your position? It’s not everybody who’s lucky enough to get the full Sungyeol. Hey, help me warm up my feet.”

 

He goes to tangle his legs with Woohyun’s, laughing a bit at the way Woohyun stiffens, but then he stops laughing abruptly.

 

“Uh.” What the fuck is that? “Woohyun?” It can’t be. It can’t.

 

“Shut up, Yeol, just shut up.”

 

Woohyun tells him to shut up all the time, but ninety percent of the time he doesn’t mean it. And when he does mean it, it’s usually because he’s trying to sleep or because filming on something or other is about to start. Woohyun is the only one—besides Myungsoo—who never seems to get tired of Sungyeol’s loudness, who actually seems to enjoy it. Sungyeol has _never_ heard Woohyun tell him to shut up like that. 

 

He sounds choked up, desperate, and Sungyeol’s mind is spinning because he’s pretty sure he’s feeling what he’s thinking he’s feeling against his thigh and—

 

“Woohyun?”

 

Woohyun is pulling away from him, body stiff as marble, and Sungyeol can hear that he’s breathing too fast and—

 

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Just—let’s sleep back to back. I didn’t mean to—can you please just forget this ever happened? Can we pretend like it didn’t?” Woohyun’s voice keeps cycling through emotions too fast: defensiveness, pleading, maybe even fear? Sungyeol isn’t sure. But he can feel cold creeping into the space between them and that just won’t do. His arms shoot out, wrapping around Woohyun again, and he moves to press his front firmly against Woohyun’s back.

 

“What the—did you hear what I said? Back to back!”

 

Sungyeol’s arms tighten at the panicked sound of Woohyun’s voice. Honestly, he sounds more panicked now than he did earlier when the door wouldn’t open. Sungyeol’s mind races along as he hooks his chin over Woohyun’s shoulder. He wants to snap at Woohyun to relax, but he knows that would be pointless, knows that isn’t what he needs to say right now.

 

“Woohyun.” He’s surprised at the calmness of his own voice. He would have thought he’d be more emotional than this. But despite how fast his mind is working, he feels really...calm. “I know we don’t get to date, and porn and our hands can only go so far, so—” He stops and starts over again when he hears Woohyun let out a little pitiful sound. “I know you can’t control it, but I just need to know if—if you’d be like this with…Hoya or Hyungdon-hyung or anyone at all?”

 

Woohyun still feels like rock in his arms, his breathing so fast it’s almost panting. “Sungyeol—please—please don’t—”

 

Woohyun sounds like he’s being tortured, but Sungyeol isn’t meaning to play with him. He isn’t teasing at all. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t tease anyone about this, especially not Woohyun. Woohyun trusts him, confides in him, lets himself be vulnerable with Sungyeol. Sungyeol has never once betrayed that trust. He’ll tease Woohyun about almost anything, gleefully blackmail him just for the heck of it, but the stuff Woohyun has told him that’s serious? That’s off-limits. Sungyeol knows he can be solipsistic, maybe even a bit of an asshole. But he knows where the lines that count are, and he wouldn’t even _want_ to cross them.

 

But he needs to know. He has his suspicions, things falling into place—Woohyun flinching whenever he touches him, how he wanted to be alone with him, the strained way he reacts to some of Sungyeol’s more flirtatious teasing—but he still needs to hear it for sure.

 

“Woohyun, I’m not mad.” And he’s not. He’s not upset at all. In fact, he’s kind of pleased at how many things are suddenly starting to make sense. “But I need to know. I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear.”

 

Sungyeol’s thought about this. It’s kind of hard not to in the industry. He knows enough guys whose preferences are known even if they aren’t acknowledged, and he’s sure there are more than a few girls, though that doesn’t spread as far. He hadn’t considered it before he became an idol, but getting to know guys who are just like any of the other guys he knows but who don’t have an interest in girls—or who don’t have an interest _only_ in girls—had raised the question for him, and then there’s the questions they ask to tease each other: ‘If you had to, who would you pick?’

 

It’s safe to say that Sungyeol definitely has an interest in girls. More than an interest. That isn’t likely to change any time soon. But he has wondered what the appeal of a guy is, and he’s asked himself some questions. His automatic answer to the ‘if he had to’ question is Sungjong—Sungjong’s beautiful and he’s got better curves than any guy Sungyeol has ever seen. Sungjong is all man, sure, but in a way that’s closer to a what Sungyeol associates with women than, like, Hoya. But he knows Sungjong would _not_ take it well if someone asked him to help him experiment, so Sungyeol has pondered his second choice and—yeah, it was Woohyun. Myungsoo being Myungsoo, fooling around would completely fuck up their friendship, but he always sort of thought that Woohyun would be able to handle it—he’s best friends with Kibum, after all. And there isn’t anyone else Sungyeol trusts enough. 

 

But that had all been hypothetical, a silly game to play with himself. It’s very different than being pressed up against a naked, turned-on Woohyun. This is...this is something he hadn’t considered at all, and he isn’t sure how it’s going to turn out. But he wants to find out.

 

“We’re still going to be the same, the two of us.” He knows how worried Woohyun must be. Sungyeol isn’t one to care about someone else’s sexual orientation, not unless it’s a hot girl he’s into—if it doesn’t affect him, he just doesn’t care—but so many people _do_ care, and Woohyun is probably used to being scared of how people will react. More than that, he’s probably worried that even if Sungyeol doesn’t care he’s gay—or whatever—that it’ll still put some sort of strain on their relationship. But Sungyeol is determined not to let it, and to make sure that Woohyun knows that. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I just want to know.”

 

Woohyun is still in tensed-up, fast-breathing mode, but at Sungyeol’s coaxing words, he cracks. “Fine! You want to know? Fine! It’s you! It’s you, okay? You turn me on so much I get half-hard just seeing you walk around the dorm in a tank top with your fucking stupid bedhead.”

 

Well. That is...really flattering, actually. Sungyeol has to keep himself from grinning. 

 

“And it’s not just that.” It’s like a cork has popped and Woohyun’s words are champagning out without his permission. “I—I’m fucking crazy about you, and it’s been driving me out of my mind not getting to spend time with you the past few months and I miss you so much I can barely breathe and I wanted to just be with you today, just you, and so I thought of taking a stupid fucking walk but of course it came back to bite my in the ass and now we’re stuck here and who knows when they’ll find us and how long we’ll be here and it’s my fucking fault and I’m sorry, Yeol, I’m so sorry, I know that isn’t enough, but it’s all I have, and I— _what the fuck_?”

 

Sungyeol’s hand stills where it had been sliding down Woohyun’s torso, and it’s only then that he notices he’d been doing it at all. Huh. Touching Woohyun. Sliding his fingers over the swell of his pecks and the ridges of his abs. It feels pretty good actually, though Woohyun has gone even more tense in his arms and is now struggling to get out of them.

 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Sungyeol says calmly, tightening his arms so that Woohyun can’t get away. “I’m not.” 

 

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—let me _go_.” But Woohyun’s struggles to get away stop abruptly when Sungyeol’s hand presses against his cock, and he lets out the sound that raises the hairs all over Sungyeol’s body.

 

“God, you’re really hard,” Sungyeol breathes, wrapping his hand around Woohyun’s erection. It feels familiar and yet new in his hand, so like Sungyeol’s own and yet so different. 

 

“Sungyeol, what are you _doing_?” Woohyun manages to rasp out, sounding completely defeated.

 

“I don’t know,” Sungyeol answers, still holding Woohyun firmly. “But I want to do this for you.”

 

“ _Why_?”

 

“I don’t know.” But he doesn’t really care, either. Sungyeol has always operated best on instinct, and he knows exactly what his instincts are telling him now. He feels no doubt at all. “But I want to.” He pauses, suddenly aware of the fact that he just grabbed Woohyun’s junk without permission. Fuck. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

Woohyun is very quiet for a moment, other than his panting. Then: “No.”

 

Satisfaction zings through Sungyeol, and he starts to move his hand, falling into the rhythm he himself likes. “Good. I would have been really disappointed.” And it’s the truth.

 

“Why?” Woohyun sounds so utterly bewildered even as his hips start to move, his ass flexing against Sungyeol. 

 

“I don’t know,” Sungyeol says again with a laugh. “But I want to do it right. Tell me if I get it wrong?”

 

Woohyun doesn’t tell him much of anything—or maybe he tells him a lot, just in little whines and gasps and moans that are, Sungyeol can admit, really fucking hot. He finds the rhythm Woohyun likes is different than his own preference, that he likes to be gripped a little bit tighter and when—still going on instincts—Sungyeol bites down lightly on Woohyun’s shoulder, Woohyun’s hips jerk and he lets out a wail.

 

“Is that right?” Sungyeol slips his other hand down to cup Woohyun’s balls, feeling Woohyun’s back slide against his chest, a little slick with sweat now. Sungyeol is feeling warm all over, completely forgetting where they are or that he was freezing just a few minutes ago. And as Woohyun makes more and more sounds, moves his hips more and more desperately, Sungyeol is maybe starting to get a little turned on, too. He doesn’t know whether he’s hardening from the friction of Woohyun’s ass against his cock or because he’s conditioned to associate the sounds Woohyun is making with porn. But he does know that he’s not picturing a girl or anyone other than Woohyun: he’s totally focused on Woohyun and the way he sounds and feels and the salt on the skin of his back under Sungyeol’s tongue. And maybe it’s really, really sexy to be wanted, to hear Woohyun moan his name— _his_ name—and okay, maybe that’s proof that Sungyeol really is as self-centered as Sunggyu sometimes complains he is, but he doesn’t think there’s anything that wrong with getting turned on by being desired. 

 

Woohyun’s noises are rising in pitch, and it suddenly occurs to Sungyeol that they won’t want to sleep in a wet and then stiff bed, so he gropes one hand above the blanket, grabbing hold of one of his socks and moving it back down under the covers. He gets it in place in time, and he’s a master at catching spunk, so when Woohyun comes with a long drawn-out keening sound, the sock does its job. Sungyeol hurriedly tosses it away out into the cold beyond their little cocoon of warmth, and then wraps his arms back around Woohyun as Woohyun pants through the aftermath.

 

Sungyeol is feeling pretty proud of himself—Woohyun came _hard_ —and is absentmindedly rubbing his half-hard cock against Woohyun’s ass (it’s a nice ass, really) when Woohyun suddenly flips over in his arms.

 

“Sungyeol—” Woohyun gasps before his arms close around Sungyeol’s neck and his lips fasten on Sungyeol’s and—wow, okay, it’s been a long time since Sungyeol kissed anyone not-for-a-drama without a hundred people around and hot over-bright lights shining down and the pressure to get it right and not waste time, and even though he just jerked Woohyun off, he hadn’t really considered kissing, but—wow, kissing is really fantastic. And Woohyun is really good at it, or maybe just really enthusiastic, and he has really plush lips, and his tongue is just—it’s only moments before Sungyeol is kissing Woohyun back just as fiercely, hands gripping Woohyun’s shoulders tight.

 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Woohyun pants when he pulls back, eyes glassy and hair mussed. In the moonlight reflected off the snow and streaming through the windows, he looks—really hot, actually. Huh.

 

“I told you. I wanted to.” Sungyeol nuzzles his nose against Woohyun’s jawline, then bites at it lightly, earning another gasp.

 

“But— _why_?”

 

Sungyeol grins. “Do you really care? It was good either way, right?”

 

“Are you fishing for compliments right now?”

 

His grin widens. “Why, am I going to catch any?”

 

But Woohyun’s expression sobers a little, and he bites his bottom lip. It’s swollen from kissing and the sight just makes Sungyeol want to—but when he ducks his head, Woohyun pulls back. “No, I—Sungyeol, what does this mean?”

 

Sungyeol pauses, cocking his head. “What does it mean?”

 

“Yeah. I mean…” Woohyun trails off awkwardly, and Sungyeol tries to catch up with him. Oh. Right. Woohyun hadn’t just said he wants Sungyeol, he’d also said he was crazy about him, which Sungyeol is pretty sure is Woohyun-protecting-himself speak for ‘in love,’ and _that’s_ huge, because Sungyeol is quite sure no one has ever been in love with him before, not anyone who really knows him, anyway. It’s big and kind of overwhelming, but not in a scary way. In a...giddy way. There’s his self-centeredness again, because he likes it.

 

“I don’t know.” That seems to be the only thing he can say about any of this. “I really don’t.” He doesn’t like the line between Woohyun’s eyebrows, so he hurries on. “But I liked it. And you liked it. So can’t we just...figure it out later?” At Woohyun’s look, he hurries to explain. “Not like that. I mean...I’m not going to regret this and let it turn our relationship weird. I promise you I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll decide we should, like, give us a try or if I’ll think it was just a one-off and I’m glad I could give it to you. I’m not trying to lead you on—I really don’t know what will happen. But if I’m honest about that, isn’t it okay? I won’t let myself hurt you, hyung,” he continues, lapsing into formal language for just a moment, to show Woohyun how serious he is. “Even if I decide it’s never going to happen again, at worst things will just go back to the way they were before.” He pauses. “Can you live with that?”

 

Woohyun is quiet for a long moment, his face so gorgeous in the moonlight that it makes Sungyeol’s heart ache. Sungyeol isn’t sure whether he’s attracted to Woohyun or not, at least in the conventional sense. But he likes making him feel good and he likes being wanted and likes _Woohyun_ —not to mention that he likes looking at him. That’s a lot of things to like, and right now Sungyeol feels like those things could lead anywhere. 

 

“Yeah,” Woohyun says after a moment. “I can live with that.”

 

And then they’re kissing again and it feels really fucking great and Sungyeol would gladly keep doing it for the rest of his life. 

 

“I gotta say, though,” Sungyeol says, when they’re breathing against each other’s mouths. “I kind of want to try this again sometime, maybe somewhere with more light. So I can see your face when you come.”

 

Woohyun lets out a pained sound and jerks Sungyeol’s head back down. This time when they part, Woohyun keeps his dark eyes close to Sungyeol’s. “You’re getting hard.”

 

Sungyeol lets out a little laugh. “Yeah. Your ass was rubbing up against me. And the kissing isn't helping.”

 

Woohyun nips at Sungyeol’s bottom lip. “It’s not?”

 

“Okay, maybe it’s helping a lot.”

 

Woohyun focuses those dark eyes on him again. “Do you want some more help?”

 

Just the idea sends excitement zipping through Sungyeol’s veins. “If you think you can,” he says, trying to hide his excitement, but he’s pretty sure it must show because Woohyun gives him a smirk that’s so sultry Sungyeol’s stomach flips over. 

 

“I’m good at helping,” Woohyun says, and then he disappears under the covers and—fuck he’s _not_.

 

But he does. Sungyeol lets out a loud whine when he feels Woohyun’s mouth close around him, hot and wet, and he’s not sure if Woohyun has a lot of practice at this or not, but he seems really good at it to Sungyeol—though he admittedly doesn’t have anything to compare it to. It’s blow-the-top-of-your-head-off good, though, and Sungyeol’s back starts arching, his hands grasping at the blankets, and fuck, this is so much better than jerking off to porn. Woohyun is also really good at interpreting each noise Sungyeol makes, figuring out what he likes almost faster than Sungyeol does himself. He’s sweating, too, now, and every once in a while he’ll jerk too much and the blankets move enough to let a blast of cold in, but somehow the contrast just heightens everything. 

 

In a way, he can tell that a blowjob from another guy isn’t much different than a blowjob from a girl. But somehow this is different than it would be with a girl, because it’s _Woohyun_ and Sungyeol can’t forget that it’s Woohyun, and somehow that doesn’t bother him at all. Fuck, he likes Woohyun so much, and he can do this with his _mouth_ , and he the way he’d said Sungyeol’s name earlier like a plea—like a prayer—well, Sungyeol doesn’t know what all this means or where they’re going, but he definitely can’t wait to find out.

 

 

“You know I said this was like a drama?”

 

Woohyun hums against Sungyeol’s neck, scooting closer to him. They’re resting now, sweat drying on their skin, pressed up to each other and not just for warmth. Sungyeol nuzzles his nose into Woohyun’s hair again. He likes the way it smells.

 

“I don’t think it is. I think it’s like a fairy tale.”

 

“Okay, that’s like me-for-the-fans level of grease,” Woohyun says, and Sungyeol can feel that he’s grinning even if he doesn’t lift his head.

 

“Not like a soppy one. Like one of those where a prince out seeking his fortune wanders into a woods and finds a city that isn’t supposed to be there and where the people all have wings or never age or something.”

 

“How is that like this at all?” If it were one of the other guys Sungyeol was telling this to, they’d sound skeptical, but underneath his manufactured cynicism, Sungyeol can hear that Woohyun wants to hear the explanation.

 

“Like, the rules are always different in that place. And so things happen that couldn’t happen anywhere else.”

 

Woohyun goes still. “You think this couldn’t happen anywhere else?”

 

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He doesn’t want Woohyun thinking like _that_. He’d promised not to hurt him. “I just don’t think it _would_ have. Do you?”

 

“I didn’t think it would ever happen at all,” Woohyun answers wryly.

 

“Right? That’s what I mean. And the traveler learns whatever lesson he’s supposed to learn in the city and then he leaves it again, but he doesn’t forget everything when he leaves, right? So maybe it’s like this happened here, and that’s what this place is for, but it still changes stuff in real life.”

 

“You know, it’s pretty cute, you trying to reassure me.”

 

Sungyeol snorts. “Is that what I’m doing?”

 

“Pretty sure, yeah. But I probably wouldn’t have fallen for you so fucking hard if you weren’t the kind to try to reassure me in the weirdest way possible, so it’s pretty endearing. At least to me.”

 

“Not that you’re not going to make fun of me about it later.”

 

“Oh, of course. Just like you’re going to make sure I never forget that I got us stuck here in the first place.”

 

“Just as long as that’s clear.”

 

 

“Hoya kept making jokes about how Woohyun was going to slice you open and climb inside your carcass to stay alive, like in _Star Wars_. He made Dongwoo-hyung cry.”

 

Sungyeol snorts at his best friend. “Like you didn’t cry too.”

 

Myungsoo makes an offended face. “Like I would cry over your sorry ass!”

 

“Of course you did.”

 

“Well, not much,” Myungsoo admits, face falling back into the grin it’s worn since the ranger hacked open the door and Sungyeol tumbled out through the hole. Myungsoo’s had been the first face Sungyeol saw, and it split into a huge smile that was of course followed by a suffocating hug. Sungyeol hadn’t even minded having his ribs nearly bruised, not when he was just so damn glad to get out of that cabin. 

 

Not that he hadn’t had a really good time in it, because he had. But even though they’d had sex again when they woke up in the morning, he and Woohyun had been more than ready to get back to the world of electricity and showers and food. He’s pretty sure they both shrieked like little girls when they heard someone pounding on the door, and they’d rushed over to it, yelling through it at the ranger who’d found them. He’d had to leave for a while to go get an axe to get the door open, and while he was gone Sungyeol had almost started to believe that he’d hallucinated the whole thing, except Woohyun was bouncing up and down in anticipation too. 

 

And then thirty minutes later, the other members and the managers and a medic had arrived with the ranger, and he and Woohyun heard the shouts to stand back away from the door, and the ranger hacked it to bits, and then they were _free_.

 

And now Sungyeol’s trudging down the path beside his best friend, his eyes on Woohyun in front of him, Dongwoo’s arms around Woohyun’s waist and Sungjong snarking at him as they walk. Every once in a while Woohyun glances back at him, and the look in his eyes almost makes Sungyeol stumble. Fuck, it’s sappy for him to react that way, but he’s kind of addicted to the ways Woohyun is showing his feelings— _all_ the ways. He wants more of them. And some of them, he wants to reciprocate. (Maybe even all of them.)

 

“The rangers kept saying that the temperature wouldn’t get so low that you’d freeze to death, but I don’t think they really convinced us. I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

 

“You have no faith in me,” Sungyeol says, shaking his head and taking a bite of the apple Myungsoo had handed him. God, he’s starving. He’s going to eat Myungsoo-sized amounts of food when they reach the lodge. “Didn’t you know I’m a genius and would figure out some way to keep warm?”

 

“No,” Myungsoo says flatly. “I was pretty damn sure you’d be shivering and miserable and whining about your cold ass all night.”

 

“Well, you’re wrong,” Sungyeol shoots back. “We spent last night toasty warm. I bet we got way better sleep than you.”

 

“Of course you did considering _none of us slept at all_.”

 

“Well, you’re idols, you should be used to that.” 

 

Myungsoo just shakes his head. “Okay, then, let’s hear it.”

 

“Hear what?”

 

Myungsoo looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Your brilliant plan for keeping warm.”

 

Sungyeol grins, and when Woohyun glances back at him, he just grins wider. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”


End file.
